Learning to Let Go and Let God

I've always been a writer, a journaler, a note taker. I've always loved words. I started this blog many moons ago when I had 3 young boys who rode bikes, played sideyard ball and taught me patience and joy in the everyday. Today I am a mom of 3 young men who  drive cars,  are smarter than me (and know it), and who teach me what it really means to live with my hands open in motherhood. They are preparing to live their own lives, on the cusp of adventures and plans that I couldn't have imagined. They challenge me to dig deeper in my faith and how to speak each of their love languages, just so they remember how much their dear old mom really does love them. 

It isn't ironic in this season of my oldest son graduating and taking his next steps into adulthood and my other two not far behind at all, that I am reading through Paul"s letters in my quiet time.  I don't know that Paul had any actual physical children of his own, in fact I'm pretty sure he didn't, but he was obedient in being that father of many bodies of believers. His offspring were the ones who he taught and nurtured with the words of God and the great testimony of his faith. He would spend time in a place and plant and start and grow a church and then be called on to do it again in a new and fresh place over and over again. All the while, Paul was also living a life where he struggled with persecution,  a personal weakness or thorn in his side, and other hardships and trials. Hs letters to his churches are reflections of his heart for the people that he loved and felt responsibility toward but who were also living apart from him in some capacity or another.

When my oldest stumbled down the steps today chatting about college and tuition and jobs, I was just making my way through 2 Timothy.  As I listened to him and his views, thoughts, and feelings about life and next steps, I tried not to get overcome with the concerns of how hard it can be. Adulthood isn't easy and living for Jesus doesn't guarantee blue skies, actually, it's kind of the opposite. I found myself getting afraid for him and all my boys and what the world might throw at them. I was standing there, feeling the mom anxiousness kicking in when I looked down and reread 2 timothy 2:21-22. It says, "Therefore, if anyone cleanses himself from what is dishonorable, he will be a vessel for honorable use, set apart as holy, useful to the master of the house, ready for every good work. So flee youthful passions and pursue righteousness, faith, love, and peace, along with those who call on the Lord from a pure heart." I underlined and prayed right then and there out loud with coffee in hand and kid in the kitchen. I prayed for God's will, not mine, for protection, for peace. I prayed we would both be obedient and full of trust. I prayed for forgiveness for our tendency to do it our way and want now answers. 

 It isn't any easier to live with my hands wide open just because my boys have outgrown me.  It can even cause me to want to hold on tighter. When I realize thought that I need cleansed and they need cleansed, that we all have to be emptied so that we can be filled with God and all the better that He has for us, then, I can let go, at least a little, for a moment or two. I want my boys to be men who are found faithful and honorable, who grow their faith and help others along the way.  I want them to know that they can always run into the arms of Jesus.  I, like Paul, recognize that I am limited by so many things but I can pray. I can write. I can live the best example I know how and I can trust in my faithful God to fill in all the gaps. God's love for my boys outmeasures mine and that's more than enough. I'm so thankful for his word which reminds me of that everyday. In the next chapter, Paul reminds us that there will hard times, difficulties and struggles in life's journey, but we never walk alone. God is faithful and knowing that he holds my boys in his palm gives my mom heart the strength it needs to let go and let God today and for all the tomorrows as well.

Trust and Obey

My family laughed out loud at my lent idea! Literally, they all laughed, a couple smirked, and one, who I won’t name, fell out of his seat. To be fair, he got on his knees because that's what I’m doing for lent. I’m committing to a literal, physical posture of prayer. I wrestled with it for a couple days, wondering why and if I was just a bit off, but I’m certain it’s what God wants from me.  This is why I’m going to humble myself daily through this lenten season and seek God. 

I was thinking this through this morning during my quiet time when I came across one of my favorite little sections in Numbers. At the end of Numbers 9 there is a section in my Bible titled “The Fiery Cloud”.  It explains how the presence of the Lord was in a cloud that covered the tabernacle during the day. This cloud turned to a pillar of fire at night and it was the Israelites witness to God's presence in their life. There is so much goodness in this for me! First off, a cloud! I am a sunshine, vitamin D kinda girl! I love blue skies and the warm sunlight in my windows and on my face. I keep my shades open all the time and think of myself as a sun chaser on my winter walks, so this cloud thing grabs me. Clouds bring to my mind overcast or blurry images. The other sign of God's presence was fire.  Now, fire makes me think of haze and fog, fear and unknown.  What I think is that God wants us to look to him and trust, even when it’s not perfectly clear. You see, the other part of this is that when that cloud moved or that pillar of fire lifted, camp broke and they moved! How amazing is that? God’s physical presence moving before an entire nation, in direct instruction! We think that would make it easier but would it really? I mean, they had to trust blindly. I can follow a sunny trial but give me clouds or shadows and I’m more hesitant. These people had to literally pack up and move when the cloud moved. They were clueless as to where or how or what it would look like, they just followed. It’s so crazy to my mind! 

Isn't trust what it always comes back to? I was reading in my devotional and it said, “Trust is not worried or anxious, because it has entered into God's rest. Trust is not confused because it has no need to lean on its own understanding. Trust does not give up or panic. Trust believes that God is good and that He works all things out for our good”. Even when we can’t see ahead because the cloud is blocking or when there is fire ahead and we're filled with fear, if God calls us, we need to go. Whether we know the road or the destination, when we are afraid and unsure, we are called to move, to trust and obey. Sometimes trust involves getting on our knees, getting uncomfortable and seeking God from a more humble and submissive place. I know for me, I want to know, like really know, that things are going to be ok and go the way I want them to. The reality in my life has been that I could never have imagined the things God has had in store. My own plans wouldn’t have led me anywhere close to where my faith has taken me. I’m so glad that God hasn’t let me see too far ahead or I might have struggled to trust in the cloudy seasons. Rarely would I have chosen the fire, but it’s where my greatest refinement has happened and will continue to happen. In this phase of life where my boys are starting to make grown up plans and face so many hard choices, I believe the same for their lives. God's plans may not always look or feel clear but they are sure to always be good and worthy.

At the end of it all, I’m grateful for God's leading and presence in life. My desire is to be faithful, to trust and obey. I may not be able to see him with my eyes as a cloud or pillar of fire but, I can feel him and I can have peace in that. I pray that my life’s testimony sounds like the last verse in numbers 9:23-"so they camped or traveled at the Lord's command, and they did whatever the Lord told them.” 

Also…it was Parker. He’s the one mocking child from the first paragraph…

IEPs and me

IEPs….I think it stands for individualized education plan. I cried in the van after our first one. Several minutes of straight up sobbing sitting outside my friend’s house who was watching my babies, my perfect boys, at least to me. I remember another one where the special Ed teacher afterward wrote me the sweetest note reminding that God doesn’t see my child as needy or autistic, He planned and purposed him and sees a beloved child. I cried after that too! I’ve had IEPs and meetings and evaluations since G was 2. That’s when I knew in my mama heart that he was different. I was scared and nervous, a little devastated, and so naive and uneducated. Today I got the draft for our next IEP. We’ve been at this school long enough that G is known and accepted and the notes on the form reflected that. There are still the test results and some below where he should be and some above grade level Mixed in the midst of all that academic stuff, there are the also the best little nuggets about how he wants to move to DC when he gets old enough to run for President, how he complains but can be redirected and do hard things, about how he’s excited about Spanish but not sure if he’ll make it a favorite. That’s what made me tear up this time, reading the truth and recognizing that God never makes mistakes and G is proof of that. 

Isaiah 61:3 says, “To all who mourn in Israel, he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing, instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be great oaks that the Lord has planted for his own glory”.  As a parent of a special needs child, there is also a bit of mourning that takes place. It's mourning the expected and so-called normal path, the known. There is  fear and anxiousness over the unknown and unexpected. I have experienced some level of these emotions for each of my boys. I felt fear, anxiety, sadness. I’ve been disappointed in them, in myself, in the world we live in. I’ve cried all the tears, but I’ve also felt so much gratefulness. I can truly say that God has turned my tears into joy. In the case of G, it’s in recognizing that G is that “great oak planted for the Lord's glory”. He challenges and strengthens himself and all of us with the struggles he overcomes. He encourages us with his innocent genuineness and child-like faith in life. He draws me closer to God and shows me God's great goodness just by being who he is and just the way God made him to be. With my other two boys and parenting in general, I've felt the a deep inadequacy that causes me to lean into my Savior. Watching them quickly outgrow me in size and intellect and, sometimes,  faith. It's hard as a mama to let go when we don't know where life will take our babies. I've worried and wondered and hurt and rejoiced, always returning to the One in whom our confident hope lies, the One who can be trusted because he knows how the story ends.

It’s taken some time, some changes in my heart and my mind, but I can confidently say that IEPs don’t cause me to mourn. Today I feel the joyous blessing instead. Blessed to be my boys’ mama. Blessed to trust in the God who planned and purposed each of them. I still recognize and struggle against the unknowns and futures of all my boys but their roots are deep and God's strength is theirs, and mine. 

Tiny Joys

My sister called me an optimist. It was just the other day when we were on the phone and I tried to shrug it off but it stuck. I am a daily gratitude lister for years now. I am a joy-finder and I pray for mine and my family’s lights to shine daily. I believe in the always-working-to-the-good part of God. I’ve camped out there during difficult seasons and He’s always proven that Truth. Do these things make me an optimist?

In this specific conversation I was saying that I had been praying for our mutual friends to find tiny joys in each day. You know, when the remote is where you left it, when the hot water is just the perfect temp of burn but not scald. When the sun peeks in the morning windows and you can literally feel God. When you hear a phrase that makes you tear up and smile at the same time. When the coffee is fresh and hot and the baked good, that it’s obviously paired with, is gooey and just barely undercooked. When you hear a baby laugh in a public place or see a little girl in lipstick and plastic high heels in the grocery store. When the song plays that makes you worship, hands raised in the carpool line or,that oldie but goodie that gets you dancing in the kitchen. Those are the tiny joys. They happen at home or away, at all times, and any time. They are so small you could miss them, which makes finding them and recognizing them even sweeter. They could almost be nothing but somehow they mean so much. I think women notice them easier because they are packed full of emotion and beauty. Tiny joys feel like windows into heaven or glimpses of the great glory of our Lord. They are the next breath you feel like you can’t take in the hardest moments. Those times in life when the world seems dark and hopeless, tiny joys are the seeds of hope awaiting perfect bloom. Tiny joys heal broken and hurting souls because they sneak into us and tie us back to our Jesus. They remind us of His knowing and working and they help us live again and again and again. 

I don’t know if I would call myself an optimist because I recognize the hard and ugly for what it is but, I am someone who will always believe in better and greater and more beautiful than I could ask or imagine. I try to live with eyes open and always looking up and expecting some bit of heaven, some peace, some love. I find that living this way helps me see the good, literally. I can more easily find the joy and my prayer is that this is always true of me. I pray it for others too. Might we see with our spiritual eyes the goodness of our God in this physical, sometimes broken world. May we always know tiny joys. May we feel whisper kisses of our Heavenly Father and may they fill where we might feel emptied and heal our deepest hurts.

Midnight Prayers

I didn't sleep great last night. I woke up repeatedly with my mind running, my cold feet snuggling, and every time, I was mid-prayer. That's just what I do when I can't sleep, I pray. I learned as child to take my worries to my Father in heaven and I can remember being very young and praying that I wouldn't dream. If I did, I would wake up asking God to take it away.  As I've grown up, I still hate dreaming but I recognize that if God wakes me, it's usually because there is something on my heart that He needs to hear. Last night it was for a friend of mine from back home who is in the midst of a fierce storm. I don't know her specifics but I know that last night, I kept praying that she and hers were resting and that somehow, someway, they would have peace in their hearts. I have prayed for family, for friends, for myself, for this world. I've prayed midnight prayers for my boys and Ryan and for my own broken heart at times.

I think in our society today, prayer is too often overlooked. We see a post or hear a story and we hit the care emoji or we say we are praying, but are we? I know for myself that I too often whisper a sentence and then move on but that's not who I want to be.  I feel like too often I cop out and let my mind go to the next post or the next task and neglect the need. I want to be a warrior for others. I don't think it means always being on my knees but if it does then I want to hit the ground and seek the Lord. I want to be always talking to my Jesus about the things of my day and the people in my circle.

Now let it be know that I am not a fancy pray-er. Our grace is simply thanking Jesus for the food. My prayer journal has very few page long prayers and lots more ramblings and coffee stains. I do know though that when I talk to Jesus, he hears and he answers. He doesn't require big words or lofty ideas. I give him my gratitude first and foremost and then I ask. Maybe it's just for a blessed meal, or a fast day, or a good grade on a test for my boys, or, maybe it's bigger like the strength to keep my mouth closed or healing for a friend.  I am always completely certain that He is listening and that He cares. I have seen the yeses and the nos. I have mourned the closed doors that He knew needed shut and I have seen Him open the ones that were for me to go through. I have seen peace that passes my understanding and joy even in deep grief. I have cried tears of all sorts and known His comfort and healing more than once. 

My encouragement for me and each of us, is that we keep talking to Jesus. Tell him the things that hit our hearts hard and don't just pass the opportunity over. I want my boys and the next generation of believers to know that there is a Father who is always listening. No words are ever wasted on Him. He hears our simple dinner grace, he longs to hear our genuine thanks, and he can handle our sleepless nights and scary dreams. Caring isn't just an emoji, it's the willingness to get on our knees, even in the middle of the night, and seek the throne room for ourselves and for others.  It's doing it over and over again.  It's praying and believing and trusting always that He really is a God who hears and answers. 

In the Eye of the Storm

 I’ve had a heavy heart for a couple weeks now. My struggle has not been for myself but as I’ve watched others facing the wind and waves of some of life’s  fiercest storms, I’ve felt desperation for them. My eyes shed tears for the pain and fear and struggles that life sometimes brings our way. It has felt heavy and heartbreaking and a little hopeless. I’ve asked, in my heart if not out loud, the whys that we all wonder when it just seems too much and not fair. All of us have been through storms, none of escape without some battle scars. It’s hard to live through them and it’s hard to watch others suffer and not have the answers or the help to offer them. 

I’ve also been studying in Job in my quiet time. It’s been tragically ironic in some ways to weep for friends who are facing life’s worst and read about Job, his heartache and his response to it. Job went through the deepest valleys. He lost everything that he valued from children, to health, to wealth, to honor. His friends rejected him and the enemy was relentless in trying to break Job’s spirit. Tonight, though, tonight I read something that gave me some hope. It’s a tiny little verse tucked in Job 40:6. It says that, “God addresses Job in the eye of the storm...” Don’t miss it! “In the eye of the storm”. It’s easy to see only the dark and scary and to feel overwhelmed and even a little hopeless when you’re in the middle of life’s storms. Those moments when your goal is just to not cry for a bit, those times when you can’t look up because your heart is just too heavy. Those are hard times. Dark times feel like God isn’t with us or at least we see no evidence of him. But, thank God for the “but”, Job heard the Lord right there in the eye of the storm, right there in the eerie moment of still and silence, maybe the scariest time of any storm, when he was in the middle of the worst. God spoke and Job survived. If you know the story, you know that before God spoke Job was only seeing and hearing and aware of the loss and suffering but, after God spoke, the storm remained only it didn’t break, instead, it strengthened him. He was restored and redeemed and blessed above and beyond.

We want the answers that we aren’t ready to see and understand. God’s ways are above beyond what we can comprehend, maybe just in this moment or maybe on this side of eternity. That truth doesn’t change the storm but maybe it gives us enough strength, enough hope, to look up to our Heavenly Father, to listen for his voice, even in the midst of the worst. A friend of mine the other day said that God is still writing our stories. I like that. We don’t know our endings, just like Job and his friends didn’t know his. We have to keep living, keep trusting, keep seeking the One who turns all the storms into something good. 

Faith Over Fear

 When the pastor asked the question, my answer came so easily. I was sitting in church today and the pastor asked a question about what would you do if you had no fear of failing. No concerns about the possible outcomes, no comparing myself with others, no fear...immediately I said into my mask, where only me and Jesus could hear, “I’d write more”. 

The sermon was based out of the parable of the talents. Jesus told it and it was meant to help his listeners to understand how we are to live while we are waiting on eternity. Talents are not meant to be hidden or stored but shared and multiplied and lived out. Now, to be clear, I’m not saying that writing is even my talent but I enjoy it and I definitely feel close to my Savior when words are involved. The pastor was explaining how fear is the opposite of faith. Fear is something I do understand some and feel a little too gifted with. Fear of rejection, condemnation, judgement. Fear of being known, of not being known. Fear of failure, fear of feeling overwhelmed. The list could go on and on. But Jesus, he wasn’t about any of those fears. He told us only the only fear is the fear of the Lord and that by having faith we overcome that one. I was reminded that what I should be fearing most is coming to the gates of heaven and realizing that I could’ve done more, that I should’ve done more. I don’t want to worry about all the what if’s in this life. I don’t want to care about how I measure up to anyone else or what anyone thinks of me. I don’t want to plan and prep but never make it to go and do stage.  I want to know that I have done well. I want to hear that I was faithful with what I have been given and that it was, and is, good. Isn’t that the point after all? Fear is not defeated by nothingness but by being obedient in the very something that we are most afraid of. 

Lately I have been reminded that there are so many things that we can’t control. Life is full of situations that we wouldn’t chose but that we have to walk through anyway. There are so many hard and unexplainable and difficult circumstances that I have no answers for. When I’m faced with these realities, so often the only comfort I have to offer is my words. Sometimes it’s in journaled prayers or tearful pleas. Sometimes it’s a note of scripture or a word of encouragement. They seem like so little in the face of life. Literally, just letters on a page. Today I was reminded that whatever I have to offer is what I should give. That’s what is good and that is how I can be faithful and obedient. Today I was reminded to write without fear.

This is my act of worship. This is my step of faith. They might be just words and yet so much more because they are meant to bring glory and point all who might read them to an eternal Father who longs to spend eternity with each of us. As it says in Psalm 56:3-4-“But when I am afraid, I will put my trust in You. I will praise God for what he has promised. I trust in God, so why should I be afraid? What can mere mortals do to me?” I’m choosing faithfulness over fear with my words and my actions! 

Writing it down...

I started a new bible study this month. I can’t even say exactly why but I joined in with a friend who was moving and another local gal. It was a study that involved working through Acts but not just reading, it also asked me to write out certain scripture daily as well. At first, I had no intention of completing the writing part. I justified that it would not be important, I was coming alongside some friends but really no one would know or care if I wrote out scripture. It would waste time and paper and energy. Somehow, though, within the the first week, I found myself with pen in hand and a heart being changed. I have read Acts before and, at first, I noted my previous scribblings and underlines. Then I dug deeper and started let the words work in me. It was subtle and yet not. As I wrote out the few scriptures each day, they had more meaning. I could more easily picture Paul and his journey and his struggles and his prayers. I felt such a stronger connection to the history and power of the the Word. 

I’m a writer by nature. I have long journaled my prayers and my current gratitude list is well into the thousands. I have always appreciated rereading my thoughts and words and absorbing again and again God's good works in my life. My bible bag has a couple different notebooks in there and a pretty notebook waiting to be filled is one of my favorite gifts to receive. Even this blog started as a space to save and share and write down my heart and mind, not because I think the world needs my ramblings but because I feel closer to my Savior when I do so. This new study has abundantly confirmed that for me over the last few weeks. I read one day ahead of schedule and then write from what I’ve already read and the way that it changes my understanding is astounding. It’s not in exactly what I’m writing but that it binds physically and spiritually to the Truth that God inspired to include in his words to us. If the creator and sustainer of life considered something worthy of including in his Word, then surely it is has an eternal power for me and you as well. When I read about Paul or John or Moses, I am hearing a part of their story, and God intends for me to be moved by it. It can be so easy to skip ahead or lose my thoughts a little in the process of reading, even with the best intentions. Writing is different for me. It makes the words go in and through and then back out again. It causes my mind to paint a picture that I can feel and experience and be transformed by on a more spiritual level. Writing makes it personal and concrete and adds value to it. I often tell my boys to think before speaking, words being written, whether copied down or formed from within, naturally are covered in more thought and processed more intimately and thoroughly. It’s the slowing down and soaking in and it transforms, renews, and inspires. 

I guess at my core, I am a lover of words. Books, lyrics, lists...words are powerful when spoken and they are even more valuable when we take the time to write them. I’m so grateful that God caused me to find this new connection to him. My desire is always to be close to my Father. I pray his love and grace and truth both consume and pour out of me. Writing his Word helps me to accomplish that a little more. I would encourage anyone to grab a pen, a page, whisper a prayer and a praise and let his words work through your heart and your hands.

Trusting the Process

Five blankets! Thick, heavy, placed one on top of the other, that’s how my G has his bed arranged. He gets his sleepy vitamin (he now realizes that his vitamins make him sleepy) and after being repeatedly reminded to potty and brush his teeth, after turning on Alexa to Spotify or an audible book, he situates himself under 5 blankets. The funny thing is that we have tried weighted blankets and vests repeatedly through the years and G has repeatedly despised them! He says they feel heavy and uncomfortable and refuses them. G is very educated that he has sensory processing disorder and that he experiences life differently and needs certain sensory input but he still resists what he needs. He shuns what is best for him and often seeks a lesser replacement. Where does he get this tendency? In my heart and yours! When I think of my own lack of accepting what God wants to give me..

I heard a sermon this weekend that spoke of this same sort of situation. The pastor was discussing the process. It’s what comes between the plan and the purpose. We know God has a plan to use us for his purposes but there is something that must happen in the in between and it’s the process. It’s where the molding and the making, the shifting and the shaping, it’s where the higher thoughts and the deeper roots are found and formed. It’s where we get lost sometimes. You see, it often doesn’t feel good. Have you ever kneaded bread? My mom showed me how to make pepperoni rolls from scratch recently. I hastily scribbled down her instructions on an old envelope and a few weeks later felt confident that I could follow her plan and enjoy the end result all on my own. I specifically wrote that the dough had to be kneaded for 15 minutes and I remembered my mom's words to not skip on this hard part. I even remembering commenting on how impressed I was with her pushing and rolling and beating that dough ball. When my turn came though, I got a bit off the plan.. it was hard, and I was tired, and my arms hurt and I had to stand on my tiptoes just to do it and I had something I needed to get to, so I quit a little early. You can probably guess what happened to that batch of rolls, they didn’t turn out at all. They were awful and flat and dry and nothing like they should’ve been. Why? Because I skimped on the process. I tried to go the easy route and the end result showed it. Too often in my life, God has called me down a road I didn’t want to take. I’ve looked ahead and wondered if it would be easier to turn back and go another route. I think of G and when I first felt in my heart that he was different from my other boys, special in his own way.  I told my doctor who thought I might be overreacting and I could've turned back and let it go but I knew God was leading me on. He helped me gave the courage to seek my own evaluations and answers and, although I spent more than a few tears feeling scared and sad and overwhelmed, I am so glad that I didn’t skimp on the process. In the end I have a beautiful boy who amazes and blesses and teaches me every day.  I didn't understand the whole plan, and really I still don't, but I'm trusting daily in the process and the purpose.

Last month was one year since we moved from our hometown to our new town. We noted it as a family and talked about it over dinner and while sitting on the back porch. The consensus was unanimous. It’s all good and ok. The year has not been the easiest. There were new schools and friends and teams and schedules. We had to find a new church and new normals. We had some kidney stones and Ryan's belly got sketchy and required new meds and treatments. We started new traditions and enjoyed new experiences. We visited and vacationed and FaceTimed and portaled. We cried a few tears and grew our personal fruits of patience and kindness and gentleness. It’s been a process for sure and one that’s still happening but we all agreed that we are grateful. It has made us closer and stronger and more intentional and brave. It’s a shaping and a shifting, a molding and a making, a plan different from our own but we’re trusting with every step. And really, that’s the point. We get to our purposes by living out God's process every day faithfully. We trust for today and for all the tomorrows and when we fear or worry or are weak, we lean in a bit closer and grow a bit closer. Kneading takes time and effort, but in the end it’s worth it. All good things, like parenting, marriage, love, courage, they take time and effort and deep roots and big faith, but they are worth it. 
I’m going to close with a prayer that I found from a few years ago in my devotional. It made me smile and filled my eyes with mom tears but it speaks such truth for then and for now. Yes, Lord and amen! No matter what today brings help me to thank you. Thank you for life and for living it abundantly. Thank you for high fives that are smaller than mine. Thank you for doctors and diagnosis and odds beaten before they are even given. Thank you for all and everything....may this be my heart this day and everyday. Thank you Lord for the plan, the process and the purpose. 

Stairway to Heaven

The bacon burned. The toilet was clogged. The sun wasn't shining. The rain was falling. It wasn't even 7am and I was already defeated. I climbed into my tub, turned the water on, not ready to meet my Savior but not ready for the day either. I should've known. I should've seen it coming. God speaks when we can do nothing but listen. I feel him most when I am stripped back to nothing and he shines brightest in my dark every single time.

I'm reading through Genesis right now. I started it during our stay at home. It felt right to go back to the basics, the beginning, and wonder at our Creator for a time. This particular morning I was reading about Jacob and his ladder dream. Jacob was out on a trip or more like getting out of dodge. He was fleeing from his own mistakes and deceit and didn't deserve to get a visit from the Almighty, but then again, none of us do. It's night and so he sets a stone under his head to sleep. My first question was why a stone? Maybe he wasn't really wanting to sleep, knows he needs to keep one eye open, just in case. He's certainly not in a good place in his life. He's ugly and wrong and completely guilty (with a little help from his mom). He's running away and his life is far from normal or acceptable or easy. I can't help but wonder if he felt like I do sometimes and questioned where the path of his life was heading and if he even wanted to go that down that road. There are times when life's circumstances feel more like dead ends than detours and I feel like I just want to make a quick u-turn. I have doubted the perfect rightness of the hard roads that God has led me down at different times in my life. I have felt that recently with all the change and weirdness and anxiousness in our world. I have had nights where I felt like I too was sleeping on stones.

So, here's Jake, laying down to sleep, sort of, and suddenly he sees a vision. It's not actually of a ladder like the child's game but the scripture says that it is of a stairway, with the Lord at the top. The visual of this on my grumpy dreary morning inspired me to dig deeper, a stairway to heaven, I'd take that. Lots of us would! Except, maybe I wouldn't. That specific morning I could also easily imagine myself starting up those steps and then getting frustrated or angry and flopping my sorry self on one of those steps, crossing my arms, and giving up. It's too steep. It's too hard. My legs hurt and I'm tired. My heart is weary and I quit. I question, why this way God? Why so many steps and why does it have to be so hard? Sometimes I want to fuss and stomp and cry, throw a good fit and just stop. Sometimes I just don't want to do it anymore, like sleeping on a stone, I'm over it! But, there's always a "but", but, God makes a promise as Jacob, and I and, maybe you, are looking up that long stairwell. He reaches down, grabs us by the hand and helps us stand back up. He says in Genesis 28:15, "What's more, I am with you and I will protect you wherever you go...I will not leave you until I have finished giving you everything I have promised you." Jacob had a long way to go in life and there would be seasons that felt like uphill climbs and wrong turns but God would always be with him. Let that soak in. He's there through our grief, our loneliness, our guilt and our shame. He's there when it feels like no one else is. He's there when we want to throw the towel in and admit defeat. He's there when we don't get what we deserve and when we get exactly what we deserve. When the way looks dark and the storms are pouring down around us, he's there. He won't leave or quit or give up on us. He's going to help and hold and stay and he will most certainly fulfill all of his promises.

From burnt bacon to blessings, that is God's way. He picks us up, dusts us off and leads us on up the stairway, to his throne room, to his glorious goodness. That morning, I looked straight up and knew that he had given me a glimpse of heaven and it was enough, more than enough.  I heaved my tired self out of the tub. I listed my gratitude and wrote out my prayer. I did the day, the mom things, the teaching things, the wife things. It wasn't a perfect day but I knew I could and would keep climbing because it's always worth it with him. His way, his promises, eternity with him are worth every single step.

Secrets....we all have them. The things we don’t want exposed, the things we don’t tell others, maybe things we don’t even tell ourselves. My pastor recently said that secrets are Satan’s doorway into your life, his little crack to get into your being, your soul, and work his ugliness. Secrets wound and are themselves wounds and yet we all hide them and protect them with our very lives. I hate secrets, but also have some of my own. I’m a horrible liar but struggle with trusting in the Truth that sets us free. My word of the 2020 is TRUTH. I’ve never chosen a word of the year before but when I was praying recently, I felt very strongly that God wanted me sift through and settle in on truth for a good long time. Truth and secrets are opposites and yet, not, in so many ways. You see secrets, to me, are often still truth, just a truth that we turn into a weapon. I was recently reading a book about marriage and a certain part stuck out to me. The author was describing past or present hurts as a sunburn on our back that someone has just slapped in greeting. We react strongly and negatively to our secrets because they’re not healed over yet, like a fresh sunburn. But how do we heal them? I think it’s in the sharing. Darkness is always overcome by light and secrets lose their power when we share them, say them, write them, uncover them somehow and some way. Then they are no longer secrets. 

Recently I was experiencing a little ebb in the ebb and flow of life. I have felt it all over, in my parenting, in my marriage, in all my relationships and activities. Ryan kind of called me out on it, since I seemed to be constantly picking arguments with him and being overly defensive and, suddenly, I felt that sunburn sting. The sunburn being slapped made me scowl at first. I wanted to roar and fight and defend but I instead agreed. I admitted my struggle, just a little, in a short but very honest text. I let the truth free me from chains and asked him to stay close to me, not pull away, even when I was pushing hard. I can’t put into words how much lighter that left me. I still felt my inner turmoil but now it had a name and I had a weapon against it and a partner! The darkness had some light on it and it helped it to heal! 

Then last week, I discovered another side of secret that was more encouraging. It was tucked sweetly away in a well-known and precious verse in Jeremiah. Jeremiah 29:11, “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Did you catch it in there? HE knows, not me or you! I was discussing this verse with my kiddos and suddenly, I realized that I don’t know His plans for my boys, only God knows and he’s keeping it on the down-low. It’s a secret. Of course, I have hopes and dreams and I need to be present and purposeful in my parenting but I don’t get to write the story. Not for me. Not for my boys. My devotional put it so beautifully, “Your future looks uncertain, even precarious. This is how it should be. Secret things belong to the Lord, and future things are secret things”. The main difference between the two types of secrets are one is hidden in the dark and the other is kept and formed and held in the hand of the Light. Light-ened secrets are good and hopeful and right. Dark secrets are desperate, desperate for light and for release. One truth that I see in myself is that I need to know the difference and light up the dark, not just for myself but for my boys and the world I’m in. I'm not sure of the how always but I do know that I will find my darkest places and let the Light bring truth and freedom to them.

 I love to share truths and be honest and share my heart to people but I still have secret parts of my story that I keep closer. I don’t know how to not do that but I do know that when I let some of it out, maybe just to a few people, maybe just a tad at a time, I find healing and wholeness. This year I am working toward and asking God for his Truth and how to apply it to my life. I want healing over wounds. I desire light in the darkness. I am certain that the Truth really does set free. So let’s light up the world and share some secrets!

**It is worth noting that it took me approximately 2 weeks and 400 attempts to figure out the password to this account which Ryan had apparently changed. Unfortunately, he was keeping it a secret from even himself! More proof that secrets (and new passwords) should always be shared!

Words That Connect

Sometimes it’s one word. Vocab. Haircut. Sometimes it’s a remind me to...study, pack gym clothes...Sometimes, my favorite ones, will be something they think is funny or a video or gif. I almost never get those but I like it or send a thumbs up and later ask for an explanation, if Ryan doesn’t understand it either. The texts from my boys, they are among my favorite things and make my gratitude list always.

I am now the mom of 2 teenage boys. They eat, talk loudly, play video games, argue over the remotes. They waller, they stink, they eat, and they talk!! Maybe that makes them odd but my boys talk non stop! The thing is, they rarely make sense or discuss anything of interest to me. For example, I love books but last week one of my boys was telling me the storyline of a book they were reading and I actually had to interrupt because I was completely lost and slightly alarmed. His was not a book of romance, happy endings, or good winning over evil. It was not my kind of read! An hour or so later though, I got another text. It wasn’t deep or meaningful but it was from him. I pulled myself up out of my cozy spot and went in search of my boy. I sat beside him and told him to tell me again about his book and apologized about rejecting it earlier. Why? Because I want him to talk to me. I want them to share their books, their stories, their jokes, their struggles, their lives with me. These people, who have for so long needed me and required me for living life, now don’t as much, but I need them! I feel the inevitable push and pull of parenting boys becoming men. The growing pains come in moments of arguing or sarcasm or misunderstanding and I don’t want to lose my place.

This stage of mom-life reminds me so very much of my faith walk. I have had seasons where I was dependent on my Savior for my next breaths and each step of the day. I had to hold on tight just to make it. There have been dark days where He was my only light and it was easy to lean in because I couldn’t stand alone. There have also been seasons where I’ve thought I was all grown up. Those times when I think I know the way and I can do it on my own. I’ve sent up quick short prayers and a thanks on a whim and felt like I was all grown up only to later learn how very wrong I was. I have often been reminded how much I need to be connected to the true Vine. Our lives, both physically and spiritually, are lived in relationship and relationships require some form of communication. I want and need my boys to share life with me. I want to know them, what makes them smile and laugh, what makes them struggle and maybe even cry. I want to help. I want to hear. I want to be there. And all of that reminds me that my Heavenly Father wants the same with me. He wants in on my days of joy and my tears of sorrow. He wants me to come to him and unload the mess of me and trust that he will listen and that he is my constant help in times of trouble. He wants my thanks and he wants to nurture and guide me. I can’t text heaven gates or FaceTime my Savior, but I have his Word and I feel his Spirit inside me. I am certain of his presence in every moment that I seek it and I rest assured that he is standing at the door and waiting to come in. It’s funny to me that the times that I feel most lost or lonely or discouraged are when I am not connected to my lifesource. I have recognized but, need to remember more, that when I am empty He alone can fill and fulfill me. There are so many ways for me to do that. I listen to music. I love reading and writing. There are quiet times, devotionals, coffees and convos with my sweet sisters in Christ, all draw me to closer to the Light and help heal and hold me. It’s about connecting purposefully and repeatedly, regardless of feelings and momentary circumstances.

I love my boys. They aren’t perfect but they are mine. I don’t always get them and I certainly have mom moments of frustration and angst, but when they talk, I try real hard to listen. When they text, I thumbs up and heart it. I respond, reply and take notice. I want them to be sure that I will always be here and, more importantly, that there is one far greater who has always been and will always be. My Jesus and my boys have my heart and they also have my ear. One word, a like, I’ll take whatever I can get and savor the connection because that is what relationships and real life are based on, communication and connection.

Confident in HOPE

I’ve had a word on my mind and heart lately. It’s almost taunted me, haunting my quiet moments, my favorite songs. It’s always there lingering, refusing to be ignored. I’ve wrestled with it in prayer and in my devotional times. HOPE....that’s my word. Hope is defined as a feeling or expectation of something to come, trusting in something. As a Christian term, it is required of the believer. It’s the confident expectation of God’s promises and his faithfulness. Hope has been hounding me. It’s mentioned in several of our current memory verses. It’s spoken several times in my boys' favorite playlist. It’s even the name of our new church. It’s everywhere. I want to think, and write, and be put together, with organized thoughts, but this one has me tied up in knots that I feel like need written before being fully understood so forgive me if I sound a little messy on this one.

For a while now God and I have talked it out and I feel like I can almost handle hope a little. I can trust in my Jesus. I expect His work in my life and even beyond this life. I can anticipate what God will do, wish and dream of it but, then we get christian on it and it also needs to be confident. I am not big on confidence. I am big on joy. I am huge on gratitude. Confidence and I though, we don’t really jive well. So how am I to combine this lackluster confidence I know with my hope? How can I be confident when it’s hard to hope? When the battles are fierce and families are at stake? There is so much in this world that is hard to hope in, the diseases, diagnoses, addictions, disappointments, frustrations. The ugly, the unknown, the lost, the broken, the lonely, I want to be certain in victory over all of this. I want to be sure that good will win and that joy absolutely will come in the morning but then there are the really long, really dark nights and I feel myself waver. I feel my hope weaken and I definitely don’t feel confident. Is my faith not strong enough, my prayers not righteous enough? I know that my God is more than enough but why can’t I feel that blessed, confident, certain assurance in my hopes? I feel held captive by it all and that is where I find the light leading me out of the darkness. It’s in those prison moments, the longest darkest nights, when it is so far beyond me to win or even fight, when my strength really isn't enough and I don't even feel like fighting, that is when HOPE shines the brightest. 

I am in a season of complete unknown newness. I don't know the layout of the Walmart just a couple miles away. Where do they keep the horseradish and the mini chocolate chips? I celebrate every time I don't need the GPS to get me somewhere or to find my way home. I rejoice if I recognize a face in any crowd and when the dude from Garrett's taekwondo class spoke to me in the check out line, I wrote it on my gratitude list. I am completely out of my comfort zone every single day. I love to be in control and feel like I am strong and able and all this newness strips that feeling away. I have a deep need to feel known and accepted and loved and I find myself in a place where so very few know my name and almost none know my story. As if all of that isn't enough, I see so much hurt and heartache and struggle in the world around me. I know of too many families living in hard times. Hearts that are broken. Choices made that can't be unmade and the darkness of this world seems beyond what we can bear. That's the thing.....we can't bear it. There is no part of me or any of us, physically, mentally, emotionally, or spiritually that fix or manage the shattered parts of this world.

It’s an odd place to be as wife, mom, girl and it has moved me from a place of comfort to a place of transition, leaning hard on my God and trying to be hopeful and confident and all the good while I neither feel nor understand any of it.  It’s a place of hope, believing in what I can’t see and don’t fully understand, hoping in the One who guides my steps and holds heart. It’s a level of trust and faith unlike anything I ever known and it has helped me see hope as more than a word but as more of a lifestyle. I can think of situations and circumstances of people I know who are living out their hope as well. Maybe they are hoping everyday for a cure, for an answer, for peace, or for heaven itself. Whatever it might be, they wake up and don’t know the answers, don’t know all the whys or where’s or how's but, and that’s a huge but, they know in whom they have believed. That’s HOPE. It’s the light in the deep darkness. It’s the next breath that you weren’t sure that you could take. It’s the next step down a road you don’t know if you want to travel down because you surely don't know where it leads.  It’s the strength and faith to keep going when when we are so very unable on our own. As far as the confidence goes, the trick is where or whom we place it. I have very little self confidence in myself. I’m not a great cook, just good enough. My parenting style is “by the grace of God and the seat of my pants”, hardly confident. I’m getting older but not necessarily wiser. I am just me. All of those aspects have one thing in common...I. Thank Jesus that my confident hope is not in myself. It’s in Him!  In 2 Corinthians Paul says, “Each time he said, “ My grace is all you need. My power works best In weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses so that the power of Christ can work through me”. Did you catch that? Boasting! Confidence worth bragging about!! Not in me or you or anyone but in our Creator and Savior and the great lover of our souls. The apostle Paul, the one who wrote a lot of the new testament and is credited for starting churches and sharing the gospel beyond borders, knew weakness and lack but he also knew that God shows up where we can not. In our less than, He is more than enough. He is where our confidence lies and lives and He is our hope in all things and at all times, even our weakest, ugliest, neediest unknown places. Those are the times and places where He does his best work. We can be confident because our hope is not in us.

Hope is so much more than a word in this life in between now and eternity. Hope is a believer's heart’s very beat here on this earth. It’s where my faith began, a hope in my creator and it’s where I look to when my eyes and heart can’t see the plan and it’s where my soul will one day find it’s rest. That is hope. Hope is heaven's home for us in the here and now and that is why I am confident and sure and full of HOPE. 

Romans 15:13- “I pray that God, the source of HOPE, will fill you completely with JOY and PEACE because you TRUST in HIM. Then you will overflow with CONFIDENT HOPE through the power of the Holy Spirit”.....

Amen Friends. 

Taking time

Last night I couldn’t sleep. Don’t get me wrong, I was tired. Maybe even exhausted. We worked outside all day on screening in our back porch. We did church this morning. I made dinner and a sorta lunch. I ran an errand and spent a fun hour at the pool with the kids shooting them with nerf guns! I was tired but my mind was not. G starts fifth grade tomorrow. Fiftieth grade!!! Noooooo! But it’s true. He not only starts a new grade but also a new year round schedule, in a new school, with all new kids, teachers and routines. Oh my! My mind was definitely not ready to shut all that down. 

As I struggled to quiet my racing thoughts, I realized what the real issue was. I was praying in that moment and reaching out to my Father but, in the last week I had fallen very short. We visited back home and worked and played hard this week and I didn’t even pack my Bible and my quiet times were short to non-existent. I was a withering fruit, in desperate need of my most nourishing source. We all do this sometimes. We get busy distracted overwhelmed. Isn’t it funny that sometimes we prioritize other things over what we need most. We had been home for a couple days and I had squeezed in a run and even shopped a little. I had also managed some chores around the house. What I hadn’t been able to get done was what I needed most. No quiet time, no devotional or authentic prayer time. My gratitude list was at the same place as I left it a week ago. 

My first step was repenting, just acknowledging my need and my neglect and vowing to get back where I needed to be. My second step was giving it back, giving back the worry and anxiety and never ending list of to-dos. Lastly, I thanked God for all the good we have seen, specifically in our new home. The blessings, the laughter, the kindness and joy that we’ve experienced and then, back alongside my Savior, I trusted. I let my fears and concerns find hope, confident hope, where all my real, eternal hope comes from. I’m not in charge because He already knows and He’s got it under control. Then, finally,  I slept.
When I woke up this morning, the devil immediately hit me with some what if’s and a list of my lack but I was ready. Before my eyes could adjust, I welcomed Jesus into this day. I climbed out of bed with prayer and praise and ready to be led. I wrote the teacher a quick message. I perked some coffee, hugged my hubs, and told my kids, I’d be upstairs for a bit. Time to nourish my thirsty soul and be filled so that I have something to be emptied of. 

Life will never not take from us, I think for me it’s about having something of value to give away. In my own self, I will work hard and love hard and play hard but, I will always always fall short and end up empty and sore. When I do life with Jesus though, when I take time to let Him take the heavy and replace it with His fruits of peace and kindness, when I let Him direct not just my actions but also my thoughts, that’s when I can live and love and work abundantly. Hands wide open is my reminder to receive all that God has for me, the blessings of joy, pain, the struggles and the victories, but also to not hold tightly to that which is His. I need reminded to give Him my worries, my fears, my days. Hands open to the one who will only place that which He determines I should have into my ready palms. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my gratitude list has a few things that need to be added to it.

     Psalm 27:8 My heart has heard you say, "Come and talk with me." And my heart responds, "Lord, I am coming."

Like Ripples

If I had written my marriage vows, I would have included a line that said that I never wanted to move, not from WV, not even from Fairmont. Until death do us part, in sickness and health, through the good, bad, ugly, and crazy beautiful...as mountaineers. That’s just the truth. Another statement I have made out loud on several occasions in the past is that I would hate to experience two things in life with G, a car accident or moving. They would be too hard for him to conceive and adapt to and he might freak out beyond my mom skills and I just never wanted to go through those things, but, life, it has a way of taking us down the roads we try to avoid. We can go willing or dragging our feet but we don’t get to pick and choose most circumstances. Then, whoops, last winter g and I were indeed involved in a fender bender where we weren’t hurt and my fears were proven wrong. The hardest part was convincing G it wasn't his fault and he probably helped me not get a ticket. Also, in case you didn’t know, we have moved, not even just from our town but even our state! That’s a big one in life, moving. Moving kids and houses and taxes, not easy on any of us, including G. As I was running this morning on a new route in my new neighborhood, I crossed a lake and noticed lots of ripples on it because of the breeze blowing across it. It made me think of my life lately, lots of ripples, lots of changing winds, lots of new and different, lots off adjusting. You might think that our relocation is what I’m talking about but there have been other ripples, other changes that the Lord has been working in my world that have been harder to see and more difficult to endure. The Lord has shown me some idols that I needed to purge and reprioritize and, through feeling unacceptable and left out, he has helped me to see how I need to be fulfilled by HIS love for me. He has made me pray for the hard ones and find forgiveness and healing not just for myself but also for my boys. That’s rough, ugly stuff there and they aren’t made any easier with a moving company or new address.

A few months ago when I felt the Lord revealing to me that the winds were shifting and he wanted to prepare me, I had to make some difficult choices. I had to be willing to become moldable. I had to find some freedom while arranging other boundaries. I found myself pleading that I would know and feel and be filled by his love and acceptance of me just as I am, while also fighting and releasing the idol of constantly trying to be enough so that others would accept and like me. That struggle doesn’t take a day or a week or even a month. In fact, when I’ve gotten complete victory, I’ll let you know just how

long it takes but, for now, I accept his grace and mercy for my failures, over and over again. I pray for me to hear his voice and feel his deep, unchanging love for me. I trust that he made me with good and pleasing plans and purposes and nothing and no one can ever change that. I try to walk according to his ways every moment and give him my day, each day, to use as he sees fit. Lots of times, most of the time, this requires that I lean hard on His strength and surrender my will. That is so outside of myself, so outside of society that it seems and feels strange but I am learning that he is always with me and that makes it worth it every single time. 

The Lord has also shown me my own ugly heart. He has done so mostly through the unexpected places, my kids, my Ryan, and my other life relationships. He has revealed where my love is more like hate and my concern is selfish or conceited. He has made me forgive so that I can show my Boys what it looks like and he has asked me to be sincere in my prayers for the ones I’d just as much rather not include in the first place. My heart is so very yuck sometimes. It gets broken and doesn’t even want to mend, much less offer grace. The Lord has worked through my dark to show his light to my most important people, my boys. He has helped us help each other show love and mercy to a world that won’t always give it back, to dig deep and be strong by his might when our own is so very insufficient. He has has been faithful to me when I felt like I just couldn’t and he has given me the right words to pray when I literally had none on my own. That’s not a small act or a one time deal. God is shifting my heart with this work and no matter what state I’m in, I am

always called to love my neighbors and pray for those who persecute me. 

All the ripples, some representing strong winds of obvious change. Some meaning something so much more, appear tiny but shift the sands of my heart, my soul, and my spirit. The ripples on that lake reminded me to let the winds do their work. Let the wind shift and shape and, even when it’s hard, let it move and blow. Some ripples look like giant waves but those little ones, less noticeable to the world, are like the breath of Jesus, falling on his beloved (mostly) faithful servant making her exactly who he always knew she could be in Him and loving her through it all. 

In process

Routinely throughout the year, we get these forms from Garrett's teachers. They are notes based on his education plan and the goals that we have set and they have options like "met", "not met", "satisfactory", and "in process". The forms are filled in by his teachers and I make an effort to open the envelope and read through them. Most often the box is check marked "in process". Two simple words that pack so much meaning.  G ( and maybe a few of us) is a work in progress. He hasn't fully mastered lots of things in life from group interaction, to handwriting (God bless his handwriting), to managing his impulsivity. Recently while I was listening to a particularly good sermon, our pastor used the same term to describe our christian walk, in process, not perfect or complete but somewhere along the way,  and then a book that I am really enjoying right now talked about the period of time in life where we are preparing for the next adventure, trial, or experience in life. "In process" isn't necessarily fun in my eyes.  Preparation means hard work to my ears. I am more of a "met" or "satisfactory" kind of girl but let me tell you that I am in a period of life where I most definitely have felt like God is "in the process" of something.

Often G gets the "in process" mark across the board; socially, academically, emotionally, developmentally.  I, too, feel it across the board. I feel it physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.  A few months ago, I felt a stirring. I felt that God was working something in me and, to be honest, it wasn't a something that I was super comfortable with. I felt my weaker parts being exposed and worked on but I didn't allow myself to resist it because I know God's work is always good and I could also very much feel His peace when I would allow Him in and let Him fill me with it. I felt the things I thought I knew for certain becoming uncertainties and my comfort zone being washed away and expanded. I felt myself losing, instead of gaining and it weighed on me. Lonely but not lost, I tried to surrender and rest and trust but the path has seemed unclear and a little daunting.  I really prefer to be a conquerer, victorious and strong, and I view myself as a very capable and able person but in reality I am just a work in process and preparation is a necessary evil.

God has shown me recently little things and big things that he has been working on and molding and shaping and preparing and I have felt both blessed and stressed by all of it.  The work of God sometimes involves big changes and conquering those major fears and anxiety inducers and I really try to avoid that type of work. When I think of my story, I feel like I have enough of the hard to live the rest of my life in the soft (ish). I like predictable and known and, let's be real, confidence that I can do it. Lately, God has asked me to remain faithful when He takes away the easy and known. It's the big and the little, G had an amazing teacher at the first of the year. She totally got him and loved him and he was doing excellent, then she took another position and we had subs for months. Every day new faces and unknowns and G and I felt the pains of the process. We have always loved our community, our town, our church, and our little slice of the world. Sometimes though your world shifts just enough that you see the ugly and the hard and the the pretty loses its luster.  Sometimes the process, the preparing means seeing the things you thought you knew for sure differently, accepting change and disappointment and different life paths. I hate change but what if God is preparing me for a change, I need to let him work the process.  I need to accept the growth and preparation for whatever life might bring. Even my quiet times have become different. I used to feel like God and I just picked up where we left off each morning but recently I have been feeling the pull to walk His path, not necessarily the one I had started down. At first I felt afraid and almost wanted to avoid it, as if that is even possible. My prayers have shifted from thanks and assuredness to prayers for peace and an obedient heart. I have had to look directly at my weaknesses, my sinful ways, my ugly wrongness, and even my fears,  but I have seen them covered in grace. God doesn't want me or any of us to be incomplete or less than. He wants to work in my weakness, then show me how very capable He is and He wants to use my sin and my hurt to prepare me for a victorious battle.  I want to live and love as He has planned for me, even if I can't always clearly see what the destination going to look like.

 Just a couple of weeks ago, I ran a half marathon. Running a drive-able distance is something I never felt tempted to do for several reasons, the training takes too much time, I wouldn't have a partner to do it all the time, and, to be frank, what if I failed. The funny thing is that God used the entire experience to highlight all those fears and insecurities and process them into something awesome. The training time actually ended up being just a tad bit more than what I normally do and I really enjoyed the running and pushing myself beyond my norm. I not only trained alone but ended up running the actual race alone, except I really wasn't alone. I have had the best runs listening to worship music or enjoying my audible book. I have prayed and praised and connected with God in new and beautiful ways that wouldn't have been possible otherwise. When race day came, the only real uncertainty was could I actually do it. I had my friend for this one, which was a comfort and I was as ready as I was going to be. Also it wasn't raining or snowing, so prayers had already been answered. Mile 6 is where it got real for me. Somehow I had lost my friend in the masses. I was alone, running, running far. I turned my music on to distract me and focus me and God just filled my head and my heart with this amazing sense of BOOM (thats our family word for fantastic awesomeness). I looked around and put my hands in the air and let a few rouge tears drip down my cheeks. I thanked God that I was alone with just him, on this unknown trail, that I still had a long ways to go but I could trust that He would get me across the finish line. I thanked him that I was so very weak and unable unless I was running life's race with him and then I kept going. 13 miles worth of prayer and praise and peace. Do you know that I even missed the finish line? They had to call me back because I had made the next turn and was ready to keep going. My process didn't seem finished to me. I was and am still going. This prep work, it hurts somedays, makes me want to cry, gives me butterflies in my belly, feels unknown, but wherever the path leads, and however I have to get there, I trust hat God is strong enough. He will lead me and help me run without getting weary. I am weak but He is strong and He loves me too much to leave me where he doesn't want me or to let me remain unprepared.

I guess really, if life had progress notes, I would appreciate receiving them in a little yellow envelope. I would open it up and enjoy seeing the box marked "in process". I would let it remind me that I still have a LONG way to go in this race called life but that God knows where the trail leads and what lies around the next bend. He will prepare and go before and beside me no matter what.

These Shoes

These shoes. These are no ordinary shoes. These shoes represent game changers and lifesavers in this family. Theses are shoes for change and new steps. Shoes that will take us farther and beyond. Shoes that stretch us and grow us and they just straight up made me smile today when I saw them all together. Let me explain.....

 The first pair, those little black and red ones, I bought those shoes last spring. I bought them because they were one size up for my growing G and, yet, they were the same style that he has worn for several years. I bought them because they were on sale (I am a frugal girl when I can be). I bought them and I was proud of them because I was sticking with routine while preparing us for the road ahead. I bought them and then I showed them to G and he rejected them, straight up said nope. His last pair was black and white, no red. His last pair had his old insoles. No, he doesn't require insoles but after he stole Parker's expensive ones a few years ago, we got him some Dr Scholl's and cut them down to size as a compromise. He rejected them because he hates change, any change. His old pair was worn and he had the straps adjusted and the tongue pulled out. They slipped on, kind of, because they were getting small. I did what I do, I left them sitting out on display. We talked about them and said how cool they were. We showed him how everyone gets new shoes as their feet grow. We bought insoles and let him put them in there just right. We still lost. He had steadfastly refused those new shoes until this week, Sunday, to be exact. It was a lovely Sunday morning and we were running late (not a shocker at all). I, as usual, was becoming a tad frustrated over the lack of cooperation from my people and beginning to lose it a little. I may have said something like, "get in the car with or without shoes or stay home and I will let CPS know to come get you." Maybe not those exact words, but possibly close to that. G got in the car. I drove out, still lecturing, until we pulled hastily into the parking lot and we all got out. I was continuing my tirade when one of the boys complimented G's shoes and I looked down. He had on his new ones. He looked hesitantly at them and then said that he actually liked the fit. It was amazing. Simply astounding. Months of all the right things and trying so hard and when I lose it, he gets it. The best part is that he has worn those shoes all week without missing a beat. I found his old ones and threw them away, somehow mourning and celebrating our growing up at the same time. Those shoes represent change and new steps and are a cause for celebration in our world.

The next pair, the white ones, and the boot, let me tell you about those, especially that darn boot. This was our first time with the boot transition from a cast and at first it was great, then it stepped on me and, it was forgotten downstairs and, in his bed and, it was wet and dirty and yet walking on my floors and then it started smelling like a boy's foot might smell after being in a boot or cast for weeks. I began to hate the boot, maybe even loathe it. So, last week when Parker's doctor said he could go bootless, we all rejoiced. I mean it, we all literally yelled with gladness. (They love us there!) The doctor and I and Parker, we all agreed that he could still use the boot for school for this week since his walking in real shoes was a struggle at first.  To be honest, this whole ordeal has been a bit of a struggle. Parker put in perspective for me a couple weeks ago. One night when we were discussing our fears, he said that one of his greatest fears was never being able to walk normal again. My mom's heart shattered. I didn't tell him, but it was mine too. Two foot surgeries and one year of hoping and praying and pushing and trusting and doubting and then hoping again, that we had made the right choice, that it really would be ok, that it was all worth it. Those white high tops tell the ending...it's all good! He is back to walking, albeit a little slowly and with a slight limp, but we are seeing major strides and expect a full and quick recovery. Being at the end of this long journey is such a relief and such a praise. Seeing him feel confident and strong about something that could have turned out differently warms me and blesses me beyond belief.  I love those shoes and I will keep that boot for always (after I febreeze the heck out of it). It will always remind us of where we've been and that God has many places left for us to go. Those shoes will follow in the plans and purposes that we trust in for every single day.

Lastly, my shoes. These are the lifesavers. You might wonder how unless you know my daily routine. If you know me you know that those shoes, although I've only had them a couple months, have already traveled many miles. They help me walk out my anxiety. They take me wherever I am headed while I listen to sermons or worship music as loud as my earbuds will allow. They run around town or my little neighborhood with friends or by myself but they always bring me back better. Those shoes have known sunshine and rain. They have witnessed a couple of tears and many, many laughs. They have heard my whispered prayers and my deep and personal praises.  They have walked the dog and jogged with Carter and even did some trick or treating. Those shoes represent thriving, not just surviving, through all of life's ups and downs. When I need a break, they take me out the door and, when I'm all done and feeling refreshed, they bring me home again. They help me have life and live it abundantly, like a lifesaver to a mom's soul.

These shoes, as I hope you now understand, are much more than they seem. They each tell a story, our story and they take us from where we were, to wherever we are headed. I love these shoes today and what they represent for our tomorrows.

A Hot Cup of Coffee

One of my most favorite things is coffee. Hot coffee in a big mug, half full with a dab of creamer. I like it best in my soft pants in either my rocking chair or on my back porch. I love to share it or just sip on it while there is love all around me. It warms me. My coffee pot is one of my most favorite and most used items in my house (might be tied with my vacuum but let's not go there). I start my day with it, often taking it with me to the bus stop. I am one of those crazy folks who drinks it all day and all year long. When I need a reset or rest in the afternoon, when I am done with dinner and need to wash down a little sweet, at bedtime when I just want a warm belly, I drink my coffee. I love to share it with my friends and family. You can find my dad and I sharing a cup most Sunday afternoons. My sisters, my friends, even my Ryan, we all enjoy a good cup of joe. It provides minimal hydration, a quick caffeine fix, and a moment to exhale. Coffee is for enjoying, for savoring, for connecting. Lately I have been thinking about my favorite beverage and how it links me to others and opens the door for deeper connections and I wondered if I am a little fearful to share beyond one cup. Am I willing to dig deeper, to keep going and share more of myself, my heart, my soul or do I settle with  a quick "to go" cup and move on. My hope is that I am known as the whole pot kinda girl. Come on over and let's spend some time and drink some coffee. I have read a couple of books over the summer that were all about sharing and what that really means and looks like. They challenged me beyond my coffee and casualness to go deeper and be real. It made me search myself and question how transparent I really am.
We have a very open house. Kids, neighbors, old friends, and new ones are always welcome in. I can perk a fresh pot or whip up some cookies quick as a cat. I try to keep a tidy living room and have hiding places for all the mayhem. Ryan and I even bought our house all those years ago with the intention of it being a place to host and serve others.Now, I realize that coffee and cookies and even a listening ear might not be enough. This quote sums up my challenge, "...everything that looks like it's breaking apart might actually be falling together. Isn't that what I've been longing to be, broken and broken free to be a key person? One of the soul emancipators who unleash others into who they already are in Him, no judging skeletons in closets or the size of a waist or the performance of anyone's kids or anything that might threaten to break us." Maybe what the world needs is to see my messy counters and hear my hard parts. They might benefit more from my hot mess than my warm baked goods.  Maybe seeing where I am far from perfect, where I am broken would make be more welcoming and real. I need to be open and sharing about the things that wake me up at night, the worries that steal my peace and my joy. What drives me tears or makes me cry out to my Lord? Am I willing to share just my coffee or also my heart?
Let me be honest and say that I don’t desire to tell you how I pray for complete healing while constantly preparing for and expecting the worst. I’m not proud to say that I used to tell Jesus that as long as he never made me move too far away, I’d be happy. I realize that somewhere inside that everyone wants their kids to be independent and happy and healthy but is there anyone else out there that tries to plan out who will take care of your son when you can’t. It literally takes my breath away. I have found that I lack faith in God and the world he has put me in because some things are just to hard for me to bear. I can be full of unforgiveness if you hurt any of my boys and yet share with you stories of deep and purposeful forgiveness in my life. Let me transparent and tell you that before every single smiling family picture, I have yelled in my mean mom voice at one or all of the people posed there. Yes, I keep a gratitude list, but sometimes I force myself to list things that I am thankful for about the the people I love the most, the very souls that I spend my days serving.  I love Jesus but, I only want him, and you all, to know about the quiet times and the good parts. The ugly and wrong, I would much rather tuck away and keep to myself.

One thing that I read recently encouraged believers to share their story because that is how God is most shared with others.  It used the stories of the Bible as examples and said that every main character (besides Christ) had a shady side to their story. Noah built the ark but what did he do after it landed? David slayed the giant for God's glory and then later in his life committed murder with only selfish, sinful motives. The stories of the Bible are not pretty, packaged, and perfect. They are real folks like me (and maybe you too). They have highs and lows, ups and downs, days when they win and seasons where they lose big. Living a life of faith is not always pretty but it also doesn't have to be. The author went on to explain that the hero of the stories in the Word is always God himself. God, using a bunch of normal folks to show His power and bring Him glory. He loved them right on through their fires and brought them out refined and beautiful.  She put it like this, "What if we were meant to summarize the highlights and lowlights of our stories?Sure, there are some nice things people would say about us. We've each had our share of glowing moments. But there are a lot of bad things people could say about us too, because we've each had some dark moments. Those dark moments don't typically make our highlight reels...We're all a mixed bag of good and bad, sinner and saint." My story is sometimes ugly. I don't always get it right. I yell for wrong reasons. I fake it sometimes. I lie and say that all is well when it really isn't. I lack faith. I struggle to love. I chose wrong. My story does't always have a fairy tale ending and I am most definitely not the hero. But, (I love a good "but") my mess can still be used for His glory, if I am willing to share it. 

I guess the moral of the story is this, come on over. My house may be messy and my life isn't perfect. Still yet, come on in, pull up a chair. I'll make a pot of coffee and maybe even some cookies. Let's talk and listen and let's be real. It might not always be pretty and perfect but it's my story and I'm willing to share it. If you've got the time, I've got the coffee.

Things I Have Learned This Summer

The Summer...three months of fun and memories, sunshine and lotion and bug spray and car rides and hikes and baseball and manhunts and ice cream. Thank God for the chocolate ice cream!! I am always learning and discovering new truths about life and love as the days pass and this summer was no different. This is a very small but important list of a few vital things that I have learned in the last couple of months of no school but lots of fun and sun with my boys.

#1-I really will do anything for my kids.
This is one of those things that we always say but are not often given the chance to prove. This summer gave me opportunities to prove it. I really and truly will do ANYTHING for my boys. I will watch hours and hours of ball. I will sleep in a hotel bed and share a bathroom with 3 boys for days, even weeks. I will cheer. I will comfort. I will have your back and be your greatest fan. I tell my boys to choose right, be right, and I will always stand beside them. This summer, I got the chance to show them just how that looks. I stood beside, in front of, and had my boys backs and we all grew closer and stronger because of it. These boys of mine make be proud and I am grateful to do life with them, whatever that "doing" may look like.


#2-We were raised by good stock.
When you have parents who will take your hardest offspring for 10+ nights and never complain or curse or quit, you realize just how precious your parents are. They fed him, bathed him, survived him and all without complaint. That's the best kind of blessing. When you have parents who will drive hours and get eaten by bugs and hang out in hotel lobbies in no-mans land just to cheer for your babies, you realize that your fan base and family base are big and strong and amazing. When you have parents and siblings who text you before, after and during games and watch them online and cheer from wherever there are for your babies, you know how important family ties really are. If Ryan and I do anything right as parents, it is because we were raised by good parents who loved and continue to love and our world is better because of them.


#3-G is more like an appendage than a goiter.
This one is kind of a joke but then again maybe not. G is my “BFF”. He wakes me every morning and stays close to me all day until he finally falls asleep to do it all again. I hear his sounds, know his ways, speak his language and that is what makes our world go round. Now imagine us separated for almost 2 straight weeks. Crazy!!  On the rare occasion I am sick, he is concerned and clingy. He calls me if I take a walk or a run just to check on me. He tells me several times a day that he loves me. He twirls my hair and steals my pillows and still loves to sit on my lap and rock in my glider. He breaths my air and is totally in my bubble most of the time. It might seem to some like an awesome break and, while it was easier to do baseball craziness without him, I missed my sidekick like crazy. My sister Emily said it perfectly when she said, “well there you have it! G is more like an appendage and less like a goiter!”


#4- I need Jesus and to move in order to function appropriately.  On rainy days, on early mornings, on stressful trips and beautiful beaches...two things  necessary for me to live and breath and function appropriately are Jesus and motion. I am definitely a better version of myself when my day starts with Jesus (with a coffee on the side) and, in order to survive the day successfully I should follow up Jesus time with walking or running or some form of physical activity. Those two things wake up my soul and body and then I can live the day, any day. I walked parking lots, streets, the beach, baseball fields, rail trails, etc. You name it, Iʼve walked it and it has helped me. As for Jesus, He really does go where I go and Iʼm blessed daily by my time with him. I had quiet times in my car, in hallways, in hotel laundry rooms, at the beach and on my backporch (my favorite non-bathtub place) and every time He met me and fed my soul. Jesus and movement make me a better version of myself.


#5-The seeds of worry are destroyed by prayer. 
Oh the things a mom of boys can worry about! I could write a book! Life is full of unknown and curveballs and what ifs. We never get to know all the answers or the way the story ends. Handling the easy and hard and figuring out how to not screw it all up in the meantime is tough. To deal with that, I have to pray. Itʼs like breathing, an absolute must. When Satan fires an arrow of worry at me, I put my shield up and call on my victor. I pray in the car, the back porch, the bath tub, my favorite chair. I pray out loud and to myself and through my tears. My prayers are far from fancy but they are the real words from a mom, wife, sister, friend who wants to trust and live each day as I should. Wherever I live, wherever I worry, I pray and that is non negotiable.


#6-Coffee pots in bathrooms help with bathroom odors.  This is a very helpful tip for anyone who finds yourself in a hotel with one bathroom and multiple males. If there is an odor (and there will be), make that free coffee, even if it is awkwardly placed on the bathroom vanity. You donʼt have to drink it for it to drown out any unwanted odors. Your welcome for that one!


#7-Always laugh...always! 
A lesson I learn and live and love! Laugh at yourself. Laugh at your husbands. Laugh at your kids. Make jokes and be merry. Enjoy each moment and chuckle as much as you can. A smile changes the world and a good hearty laugh might possibly change the universe! I am usually joy filled and joyful and when Iʼm not my boys remind me and restore me. We have laughed and cried this summer. I try to be real with my boys and that means that sometimes we gotta shed a tear or two and, we might even holler just a tad but, at the end of the day, we find the joy. I always say that one of the first things that drew me to Ryan was his smile and his personality and now I get see that witty character coming out in our boys. It makes me happy and helps me get through each day, no matter what it brings. My biggest blessings and my greatest joys are my boys (including the daddy of the group!) They are my loves and they make me laugh every single day!! Thank Jesus!


Well, thatʼs it folks! Summers might not be for book learning and classrooms but life lessons never stop! This summer has been jam-packed and beautiful and hard and fun but as it draws to a close, I am grateful all of it. My certain hope is that Iʼm never going to be done growing and learning and becoming and this summer was proof of that.